Forecastle song
Saint Patrick's day in 'sixty-five,
From New York we set sail.
Kind Providence did favor us
With a sweet and pleasant gale.
We bore away from America
As you will understand;
With courage brave we rode the waves
Bound down to Newfoundland.
Stafford Nelson was our captain's name,
Scare sixteen years of age,
As good and brave a seaman
As ever crossed the waves.
The Abeline our brig was called,
Belonging to Maitland;
With flowing sheets we sailed away
Bound down to Newfoundland.
When two days out, to our distress,
Our captain he fell sick
And shortly was unable
To show himself on deck.
The fever raged, which made us fear
That death was near at hand.
From Halifax we bore away,
Bound down to Newfoundland.
The land we made but knew it not,
For strangers were we all,
Our captain not being able
To come to deck at all;
So then we were obliged again
To haul her off from land.
With saddened hearts we put to sea
Bound down to Newfoundland.
So all that night we ran our brig
Till early the next day,
Our captain getting worse, we all
With one accord did say:
"We'll square away for Cape Canso,
My boys, now bear a hand!"
We spread our canvas to the wind
Bound down to Newfoundland.
Words missing
At two o'clock that afternoon,
As you shall understand,
She anchored safe in Arichat,
Bound down to Newfoundland,
And to the Board of Health that day
For medical aid did go,
Our captain near the point of death
That symptoms now did show.
And eight days after we arrived,
At God's just command
He breathed his last in Arichat,
Bound down to Newfoundland.
Both day and night may we lament
For our departed friend,
And pray to be protected
From what has been his end.
Be with us and protect us, God,
By Thin almighty hand,
And guard us safe while on the seas,
Bound down to Newfoundland.
